Guess Who's Coming For Dinner
by Weird Al Ian
Summary: Grownup and out of the nest, the PPG have their first dinner party in their new digs. Things don't go exactly as planned...


G_uess Who's Coming For Dinner_

The City of Townsville was the home of the Powerpuff Girls. But the Powerpuff Girls in this tale were not the same happy, carefree little superheroes they had been as children. Now they were grownups…well, they were nineteen. They didn't think that was too bad, because lots of people they knew were still living at home in their thirties. But, they were finding out just how _not_ fun being a grownup was.

They were in the third month of their Grand Experiment. Like many of the experiments of their father, Professor Utonium, it wasn't going so good. Over his protests, three months earlier they had decided to move out of his house and get their own place. It took all of the money they had saved up. They found a small, two-bedroom flat on the fourth floor of an older building on the edge of downtown. It wasn't the nicest place in the world, but at least it had an elevator. Not that they needed one. The neighbors were mostly nosy old maids, who fortunately didn't see or hear that well. It was better than any of the dumps in Citysville, hands down. And it was all they could afford. The landlord let them have it for half off the first month's rent if they would clean it out themselves. The previous tenants were pigs. Real ones, not human versions, but that's another story. Bubbles got the man to take another $25 a month off the rent for using her sonic powers to keep the cockroaches out. After she demonstrated it and every roach in the place scurried to the building across the alley, the landlord said yes.

The girls were able to find enough used furniture, dishes and things at garage sales to get by with for now, but it took the last of their money. At least the place had a tiny refrigerator and a stove that both worked. It had two bedrooms of the same size. They were big enough for two single beds with a nightstand between, but not much else. Buttercup and Bubbles shared one. Blossom had the other room, along with the dresser and clothes chest they all had to share. It meant they were always barging in on her privacy, not that any of them were really used to having any.

Running the place was easy enough if everyone stuck to their assigned duties. Blossom kept the household budget and did the food shopping – what little of it there was to do. They split the monthly budget three ways, with each of them being able to keep what they had left over from their paychecks. Which was to say, not much. Blossom also did the dishes and kept the kitchen in order.

Buttercup took out the trash and Bubbles kept the bathroom in shape. They took turns one week to the next, either vacuuming the rest of the house except Blossom's room, or dusting, and wiping down the windows. Blossom did her own room. When it came to the laundry, they took turns. But they had to do it at the laundromat in the next block until they could afford a washer and dryer.

That wasn't happening soon. Being superheroes didn't pay very well. Not at all, actually. It was just something that was expected of them, since they'd done it their whole lives without being paid. Why was now any different, was what they were told by the city. And they couldn't go on strike, Blossom insisted, much to Buttercup's dismay.

Being superheroes caused other problems for them, too. They couldn't attend college classes to get job skills, because they were always having to leave to do their duties. Besides, they were too tired from fighting evil to do all that reading anyway. Buttercup had struggled just to get her GED after not graduating with her sisters from Townsville High.

They had a hard time finding jobs, and keeping the ones they did find. Small companies couldn't afford the increase in their liability insurance if one of the Powerpuffs worked for them. The ones who could didn't like them just leaving the job unannounced, even if it _was_ to save the world. This made paying the rent and eating at the same time kind of tough.

They soon scouted out all the bars that had free munchies like pizza and wings during happy hour. But that lasted only the first few weeks. Word got around pretty fast that the Powerpuff Girls would come in, order one Coke and three straws, and then leave a short time later with napkins full of chicken wings stuffed down the fronts of their tops. They were asked nicely not to come back without money or someone _with_ money.

Monster filets became the main menu item at home at least three nights out of the week. It balanced out all the macaroni and cheese and Raman noodles. They were lucky that no one else in Townsville liked eating monster meat. They didn't themselves really, but it was free.

Getting dates and keeping boyfriends was just as bad. The girls were physically attractive enough, in spite of their huge heads and such, but their dates were always being interrupted by something. Guys decided that all the knocked-over dinner tables in restaurants, movie endings watched alone, and free amateur-installed moonroofs in their cars, just weren't worth it.

The girls realized it was because they were so different from every other superhero. Everyone knew who they were. Superman had an alter-ego. So did Batman, and all the other crimefighters, masked or not. This let them be somebody else in private life, so they at least could have one. The Powerpuff Girls couldn't. The Rowdyruff Boys were the only ones they could really count on for a good time, but they were bad guys, so…though Buttercup had been tempted to bust Butch out of his specially-designed duranium prison cell one Friday night, in desperation.

They did have a lot of friends, but now that they had to spend their money on necessities, they didn't go out with their friends anymore. They couldn't really have friends over to their place, either. They had no money to entertain with. They couldn't even afford cable. All work and no play made life stink.

This was when there _was_ work. This latest week was a pretty good one. Things were starting to look up. Buttercup had found a part-time construction job Ms. Bellum had helped her get. She flew around the city morning and night, putting out and picking up those orange traffic cones you see everywhere. The pay wasn't bad, even if it was only part time and she had to pay dues to the union that didn't want her stealing work from the five fat guys who stood around a hole watching the sixth guy take hours to do what she could in five minutes.

Blossom finally found something that let her put her creative mind to work. She loved to cook, and there wasn't a whole lot at home _to_ cook. She had a new job with Wally-mart, preparing and giving out food samples to shoppers. Insuring her, for _or_ against, wasn't an issue. Everyone knew the giant company didn't care about insurance, for their workers or for anybody. In fact, their motto was: "We're Wally-mart. We're so big we don't _have_ to care." This week she was doing Frozen Pizza. Her boss was pleased with her performance. So much so that maybe he'd promote her to Cocktail Wieners the next week. She was really looking forward to that. She'd had one bad experience with hot dogs as a child, and knew she could do better. She'd be using toothpicks this time instead of skewers. Less chance of putting someone's eye out by accident.

For Bubbles, things seemed to be looking up the most. There were no insurance worries for her company. She was an independent contractor instead of an employee. Actually, she was a door-to-door salesperson. She sold vacuum cleaners for the Electrosux Company. With superpowers, not having a car to carry her wares around wasn't a problem. But her salesmanship skills weren't so good at first. Even her super-crying powers weren't enough to make anyone feel sorry for her and buy a machine. By the end of the second week, she still hadn't made a sale. She was ready to quit.

That weekend, the Powerpuff Girls moped around the flat between emergency calls. They waited for the phone not to ring with all the calls for dates that weren't coming. They grouched about how tough life was on their own.

Buttercup made an off-hand remark. "Y'know, this living on our own sucks more than those sucky vacuum cleaners you don't sell, Bubbles."

"_Everything_ sucks more than those sucky vacuum cleaners, Buttercup," Blossom said in reply. "They don't suck hardly at all."

They both though it was funny, but Bubbles didn't mind. All that night, she thought in bed about what she could do to change that. By Monday morning she had a new sales technique to try out.

These outfits got into your house by promising to vacuum a room for you. Then they showed you how much dirt the thing supposedly picked up. The results were less than impressive. Bubbles talked the homeowner into leaving the room while she vacuumed. She knew full well they'd sneak a peek. Then she unhooked the hose from the machine and inhaled. She left immaculate carpets and floors. Then, she'd go outside and cough up a giant dirtball. So loudly that the owner couldn't miss it. They'd come running out and see her with the machine apart, on her knees spitting out crud. They felt so sorry for her that they'd buy it on the spot. She sold three the first day and twenty for the week. Her check the next week would pay half the month's rent.

Naturally, her sisters were very happy. Bubbles was in an especially good mood. She talked Blossom into spending the last of their money on a small microwave oven and some decent food for a change. They didn't have a credit card yet. Everything was cash. Blossom wasn't so sure about buying the appliance, but the chance to finally cook a real meal convinced her.

The only problem was who to cook it for. Buttercup complained about having to look at the same old faces while she ate. Wouldn't it be great to finally have somebody over for supper besides the Professor?

He'd been over twice. Both times the girls had made him 'chicken'. Now, he knew that chickens didn't have giant eyeballs, let alone three of them. But he didn't have the heart to say anything. Except to plead with them to come back home. Any dinner conversation always came back to that subject, too. One example:

"So, Girls, how was your day?"

All smiles, Buttercup said, "Blossom dropped her pants in front of the cameras today! It'll be on the late news!"

Bubbles had to get up so she could spit her Kool-Aid in the sink before she sprayed everybody. Blossom, of course, turned pink and shouted, "I did not! Professor, I was coming out of the laundromat just as a monster showed up, and a pair of my jeans fell out of the basket on the ground!"

"That's what I just said, Blossom, you dropped your pants."

Professor's reaction wasn't laughter, though. "Honey," he said to Blossom. "You know you can come by anytime to do the wash. I miss having you Girls around the house."

"Aw, Professor, let's not start _that_ again!" they all said together. They were determined to make it on their own.

So now, on this Saturday morning with a new microwave oven in their small kitchen, and _real_ chicken to make for dinner, the question was who to invite?

Several phone calls later, they still had no takers. All of their friends were out or had other plans for the evening. They were about to give up and call the Professor when the hotline on the kitchen wall rang. Blossom answered it as Buttercup and Bubbles finished putting the evening's groceries away. It was the Mayor, with perhaps the 1,973rd stuck pickle jar lid of their career.

"Wait, Blossom," Bubbles squeaked when Blossom screamed, "Augghh! Not again!" and went to slam down the phone. Bubbles had good hearing, don't forget. "Ask him if he wants to come over for dinner tonight!"

"What? No way!"

"Aw, c'mon, Blossom, it'll be fun!" Bubbles giggled.

"Ask him, Blossom!" Buttercup whispered loudly. "That way he can tell everybody what a good cook you are."

When Blossom's ego didn't react as fast as she expected it to, Buttercup decided to have a little fun with the old man. Maybe her prude of a sister, too. She took the phone from Blossom. "Hey, Mayor, me and the girls are having a little party tonight. Why don't ya' come over and have something better than pickles? "

Right on cue, Blossom made a face and whispered, "Uh, Buttercup…that didn't sound so good."

She took the phone back. Her cheeks immediately reddened at Mayor's reply to the invitation. She decided to pretend she hadn't heard. But before Blossom could say another word, Bubbles grabbed the phone away. She shot her sisters a big wink. "Listen, you old goat, you're having _chicken!"_

Buttercup punched the 'speaker phone' option on the wall, to take in the fun. Blossom grabbed the phone away from Bubbles. "Um, Mayor, it's me again. Bubbles isn't really mad at you, she was just kidding."

"Oh, that's good," answered Mayor. "I could have sworn she said we were having _goat_."

"No, Mayor, I'm making chicken. You'll like it, I promise."

"Oh, OK. I don't think I should tell anyone I'm coming, do you? It wouldn't look good for me to be spending the night with three young babes."

"Mayor! You're not spending the night with us! You're only coming over for dinner!"

"I know, my dear. At my age, that _is_ spending the night. I'm gone by nine."

"Oh, OK. Why don't you come over at six?"

"Um, didn't Buttercup tell you I said I'm too old for sex?"

Blossom couldn't let it pass this time. "Not sex, Mayor, six! SIX!! You know, when the little hand is down and the big one is pointing straight up!"

Bubbles by now was turning purple, trying not to explode. Buttercup leaned against the wall, crossed her arms and smirked. "Nice visual, Blossom."

Blossom turned as bright and shiny as a fire engine. As calmly as she could, she said, "Come over whenever you like, Mayor. We'll see you when you get here." She said goodbye and hung up.

Seeing how flustered she was, Buttercup cracked, "Why so red, Red? He's harmless."

"It's not Mayor I'm worried about, it's you, Blossom," Bubbles laughed. "Maybe we _should_ skip it and find you a date for tonight instead!"

Fuming, Blossom snatched a meat cleaver from a rack near the stove and chased her sisters out of the kitchen. "And maybe we aren't having chicken tonight, either!"

She was right.


End file.
